


Castiel's gift

by imsuperoriginal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Ficlet, M/M, Scars, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsuperoriginal/pseuds/imsuperoriginal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel tries and doesn't completely succeed but Dean proudly carries the last known evidence of his angel on his body, even if it's unknown to even himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel's gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based on this (http://freckledbuttchester.tumblr.com/post/41063908378/what-if-cas-died-in-deans-arms-and-he-had) tumblr post.

Dean always felt a tinge of bittersweetness when looking at his scar.

 

The sweetness came from the pride he always felt by having it.  Proud because it belonged to someone he never wanted to forget, someone who should always be remembered.  Proud to know he made that someone happy in the time they knew each other and shared a more profound bond than with anyone else.  Proud because it was and always will be Castiel's.

 

The bitterness came from remembering how he got it.

 

It always brought a sour taste to his mouth.

 

They'd been out on a hunt, as usual, and they should have been home that very evening, tired and grumpy and in need of a shower.  Dean always blamed himself for letting it happen. 

 

He doesn't remember how it happened exactly, being unconscious and all, but he can sort of make out the foggy details.  An out of control demon, an uncounscious and hurt Sammy bleeding all over the place, his own beat up self looking on at an angel's back.  He knew Cas would do something stupid if he didn't get up at that very moment.  He knew what was coming.  And he couldn't stop it.

 

He took one last look at his scarred torso and pulled the shirt on, hiding it away.

 

"Dean." Came Sam's voice from the door.

 

"Dammit, Sammy!  Don't go-- Haven't you ever heard of knocking?!" He was more suprised than angry, but looking at his own scar was almost a ritual now.  A private ritual, that is.  Having Sammy know of it was embarrassing even if he couldn't explain why.  It just wasn't something he was ready to share with anyone right now.

 

"Dean, I know you don't like to talk about it, but I think it's important that you do." Sam's concerned face could almost make him talk.  Almost.

 

"There's nothing to talk about." He started pacing the room, looking for something to do or look occupied.  "What happened, y'know, happened and..."  He trailed off for a second, mumbling things to himself.

 

"And it's not your fault!" Sam yelled.

 

Well, this was a surprise.  Dean looked over his shoulder in disbelief and sort of contemplated about what Sam said for a second.  It sounded familiar for some reason.

 

_'It's not your fault, Dean.'_

 

Dean's heart skipped a beat.  He doesn't recall Cas saying that to him.  But he's sure he did, and he feels it deep in his soul.

 

"Dean!" Sam was already next to him, worry thick in his voice.  "When are you goning to stop blaming yourself, for things you can't control?" 

 

Dean didn't turn to look at him, or even acknowledge him.  He just stood there, in front of his dresser, fiddling with an old photograph.  It was the first picture Cas and Dean had taken together. 

 

"Dean..." Sam placed a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder, slumping lightly.  "It was out of all our hands.  There was nothing we could do.  I'm sorry, but you couldn't have done anything."

 

Dean moved his shoulder from under Sam's hand and turned to look at him with an ugly scowl.  "There's always something we can do.  There's always some way to fix things." He growled it, the sudden rage he felt at himself showing.  He left the room in long, quick strides, leaving Sam sighing and tired for another day.

 

* * *

 

Dean had gotten into the habit of sitting on a stump and hating himself.  He left the bunker every now and then, walked around the woods for a stump, sat on it, and thought about all the ways he could have changed that scene.  Maybe if he'd been quicker, or if he'd brought extra ammo, or if they'd checked the perimeter better; something could have been done.

 

Dean wouldn't stop blaming himself for a long time.  He wouldn't stop blaming himself for not saving Cas.  But what he could never really forgive himself is for at least not being awake for Cas' last moments. 

 

It would be a while before the memories left would reopen and he would know the truth.

 

 

After the demon had died, Cas knew he had only a few moments before he too left.  The fight weakened his body and he couldn't support his own weight after that last attack.  He took a few limping steps towards Dean, one hand outstretched while the bloodstained other covered his wound, willing himself to at least get to the one man who had saved him.  He fell right down next to him.

 

 _'Dean'_ Cas thought as he watched Dean, his eyes suddenly started stinging, and water was starting to accumulate in them.  He felt his heart ache, and he doesn't think it's because of his wounds.  His breathing had become ragged and choked, but he still kept his eyes on Dean.  His entire body ached now, pain shooting from every single limb, crook and corner he had.  "Dean..." Came a little forced whisper from his lips.

 

Dean groaned and seemed to barely open his eyes, his breathing was shallow and his lower lip seemed to quiver with the promise of words.  And Cas took the opportunity without thinking.

 

"Dean, you're... safe now." He struggled, but nothing was going to stop him now.  "It's okay.  It's not your fault, Dean."

 

Dean slid a heavy arm towards Cas, struggling with every inch, until it reached Cas' outstretched hand.   _'Hand in hand.  What a way to go.'_ Was all Dean could think at the moment.  He slipped into unconsciousness once again, and Cas whined without really meaning to. 

 

He wasn't about to go unheard, though, and promptly continued to talk.  "Dean, you sh-... should know..." He felt even weaker than before, so he knew his time was ending.  "D-Dean, I..." He let out a small breath and inhaled as much as his lungs could.  "I love you... and always will."  He sealed his memories in Dean's heart, all the time they spent together, all the times Dean got mad for reasons Cas couldn't understand, all the times Dean taught him to do mundane things, all the kisses they shared, all the caresses and passions, all the ruffling of hair and playful slaps of bottoms.  He sealed them shut and passed them to Dean, in his heart to be opened when he truly needed them.  They would open naturally, when Dean least expects something like that to happen.  When he learns to forgive himself.

 

And then Cas remembered what happened to angels when they die. 

 

He barely had any strength left, but he tried with all his might to push Dean away.  His wings couldn't be seen, but they were there, pushing as much as they could.  He knew it would be painful to get such a mark.  It would be even more painful to see it daily, reminding him.  He couldn't do that to Dean.

 

Dean's body was so beautiful the way it was; Cas didn't want to ruin it.  With every push of his wings, he felt colder and weaker.  Tears ran down his face as he thought _'Dean, you're heavy'_ and the overwhelming feeling of despair ran through him suddenly.  To at least to get him a bit farther from him.  He was still so close...

 

Dean woke up in agony, a single shout at the sudden heat and pain on his chest, panting and grunting.  He slightly opened his eyes and quickly turned to look at Cas.  The first and only thing he really noticed was that Cas had been crying.

 

 

Dean didn't _want_ to forgive himself.  How could he not be there for Cas at that moment?  How could he let him go like that?  For fuck's sake, he was crying! 

 

It took him a second to notice his own tears falling freely.  He frowned and wiped them away, but they still gathered and fell.  

 

How could he be so stupid?  So weak?  ' _Why couldn't I save him?!'_

 

He hugged himself and let himself silently weep for a few minutes.

 

It would be a while before Dean got Castiel's last gift.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first shot at Destiel so I'm sorry if it isn't anything near to what it's supposed to be.


End file.
